Stuff and Things
by warchiefsteph
Summary: There's really not a title for this because it doesn't really have anything worth mentioning for a title


Bringing her mug of ale to her lips, Hawke took a drink of it, her bright eyes fixed on parchment she held before her, concentration focused as she read through the letter. It had been in her possession for awhile; letters between her father and the templar, Carver, had been of a great interest to her since she received them, and it soon became apparent to her that not all of them were like the monsters she dealt with daily. In fact, she quite would have liked to meet this man, but whether he was around Kirkwall anymore was an entirely different matter.

A curse tore across the bar; perhaps the Hanged Man was not the best place to study these letters, nor the will of her grandfather, but Lilith certainly did not want to try and read them with Carver and Gamlen hovering over her shoulders. She could have always gone to Varric's room, upstairs, but then again, she really didn't feel like running into Isabela on her way. She liked the woman enough; she was fun and always knew a good time when it came to having a drink. She just wasn't really in the mood to be propositioned that early in the evening.

Placing the letters on the bench beside her, she picked up the will, though not too soon; a man went flying across the bar, knocked roughly into the table her papers and ale had rested on, not moments before. Nose wrinkling as the surface collapsed beneath his weight, Hawke saw herself to a different booth, more hidden in the corner as the fight continued on. The man who'd been knocked into her seemed to be getting the brunt of it; the angry patron had lunged toward him, fist clenched around the scruff of the victim's tunic, his free hand wailing on his face. There was a distinct crack of a broken nose, and Hawke could see flecks of blood flying from his face, pouring from his nostrils and mouth. She wasn't exactly sure what had caused the chaos, but she was very close to getting in there herself and breaking it up.

Thankfully, it hadn't amounted to that; the other patrons soon flocked the tussle, pulling the attacker off the bleeding man with some difficulty, but succeeding nonetheless. The victim laid on the ground motionless, but otherwise still alive as she saw him take a breath. Lilith considered helping him heal-she knew minor healing magic that could potentially stop the bleeding, but as an apostate, trying to hide her magical abilities, she was absolutely certain that it would be an idiotic idea.

It seemed that the patrons would help him, instead. Several of them recognized him as a victim of a robbery earlier, and from what Lilith could make out from the muttered conversation between themselves, the man who had attacked him had also been the very same to rob him. She would have suggested going to the authorities, but there was no doubt that the templars would get their power-hungry hands in the situation and make it ten times worse. Aveline might have been able to do something about it, but now, it was too late to consider it.

Sitting cross-legged in her booth, tucking her feet underneath her, Hawke began pouring over the letters and will again, struggling to understand why a templar would help an apostate. Perhaps they could change; perhaps they were able to break away from the brainwashing and addiction that the order placed on them. Still, it was a lot to believe, as an apostate, but maybe she'd see it in time.

Taking another drink from her ale, Hawke heard the tavern's door open, though she hardly registered it as such, too taken with the letters and will she was. It was all so interesting; the way her father and the templar wrote back and forth, it seemed as though they were the best of friends their entire life. Setting down her drink, she ran her fingers through her dark hair, pushing it back from her eyes as her brows knitted together, gaze flitting across the parchment quickly, eager to learn more. It was likely Carver would have wanted to see them in more detail, but as he struggled to help their mother, just as Lilith did, he hardly had the time to do so.

Suddenly, she was accompanied on her bench, hearing the wood creak as another sat directly next to her, head covered by a hood, his staff propped between his legs. It would have been a lie if Hawke said she hadn't been startled; it was fortunate that she had just set down her drink, else it would have spilled all down her front with the force of how she jumped. However, the stranger chuckled, pulling back on his hood as his amber eyes fixed on Lilith's startled expression, a smug grin plastered across his lips.

"You should have seen your face, Lilith," Anders said, quirking his brows. "I don't think I've ever seen you look quite as frightened as you have now, even in the face of templars and demons."

"You startled me!" she exclaimed in frustration, her hand resting on her chest as her heart raced. "I wasn't expecting company, much less you. Come to think about it, I don't think I've ever seen you leave Darktown, unless I'm with you."

He shrugged nonchalantly, casually reaching toward Hawke's drink. She watched him with a raised brow, a slight smirk to her lips, but otherwise nodded, giving him approval to have a sip. It wasn't anything strong, but it was rich in flavor and deep amber in color. Truth be told, it was her favorite drink that the Hanged Man offered, gold in comparison to the piss they usually served, but it also cost a pretty penny, and was not something she could often afford. She'd treated herself after finding the letters and will, and would not share her spoils with anyone, normally, but she liked Anders, and if anyone deserved a drink, it was him.

" I promise not to take it all," he mused, taking a small drink. "It's not often I get up here for a drink, as I'm sure you know."

Lilith shrugged nonchalantly, examining her documents once again. "I do," she answered, vaguely reaching for the drink in his hand, to which he passed along, leaning slightly toward her, glancing at what it was she was reading. Interest sparked in his eyes when she took the ale, shifting slightly so that he could see better, bringing the stein to her lips before setting it down on the table between them, in an area where Anders could easily reach.

"What do you have there?" he asked, stiffening when Hawke shifted, using him as a backrest while stretching her legs along the remainder of their bench, crossing one ankle over the other. "I don't think I've ever seen you so interested in some old, weathered parchment."

"I don't think you've actually seen me outside of having battle, if we're really honest," she quipped, flashing a grin he could not see. Drawing her gaze away from the words, she lifted her chin, glancing at him upside-down, her bright blue-green eyes sparkling. "At least this time, you don't have to worry about me getting blood all over your robes."

" Again," he replied, shaking his head. "I swear, Lilith, for someone who's a ranged caster, you end up with more blood on you than Aveline or Carver. That's impressive."

"What can I say, I aim to please~" She chuckled, rolling her shoulders before settling comfortably back against him, her attention returning to the parchment in her hands. "I have some letters here, letters sent between my father and a templar, here in the city."

"A templar?" The disgust in Anders' voice did not surprise her, and honestly, when she first received the letters, she thought exactly the same. There'd been no way Hawke would easily believe that her father, an apostate, would have been friends with a templar, but the more she read of the letters between them, the more she knew that they were on very close terms.

"Whatever you're thinking, Anders, it's not that. Trust me, I had the same thought when I first got the letters, but it's completely different." She paused, angling herself so that he could better look at the current letter she read. "This one had details of a plan to smuggle my father out of Kirkwall…he was helping him, and this man, this Carver, is the namesake of my brother, for this very reason. Maybe some of them are able to break away from the Order's bullshit."

Anders did not seem convinced, but she did not press the issue, setting the letter among the rest, a deep sigh falling from her lips. In truth, she was exhausted; that entire day, she had worked her ass off to get the coin needed for the damned expedition Varric had her in on, yet no matter what she did, it seemed as though she were nowhere near her goal of 50 sovereigns. That day's job had been taking care of several thugs in Lowtown, many of which were very armed and very dangerous. She'd not brought Anders along, that time, but she almost regretted it, remembering the nice, purple bruise that had begun to color the entire right side of her torso. She doubted anything was broken, but it was bruised just enough to make it twinge uncomfortably when she breathed.

"We found my grandfather's will, as well," she continued, leaning her head against his collar lazily. "Mother's less than pleased with Gamlen when we learned that she'd been left everything."

"I imagine; is any of it left?"

"No. He'd sold it all to absolve his own debts. Carver and I are going to get it back, though."

"Maker. And your mother hasn't murdered him yet?" There was almost a concern in his voice to her Uncle's well being, but at the same time, he was aware that Gamlen likely deserved any misfortune that came to him.

Hawke snorted, shaking her head as her fingers fiddled with a few stray feathers from his pauldron. "She may be pissed at him, but she still loves him. Carver and I, on the other hand, were more than happy to rip him a new one, but for Mother's sake, we didn't. Still, I don't think he even bothered contacting her after he got the will, and because of that, we're here now."

She was rather nonchalant about it, but Maker knew how irritated the entire situation made her. Gamlen didn't like her all that much, that was evident; her magical abilities had always been a cause of disdain in his small household. No doubt, her father had something to do with it, as well, but it was getting annoying, hearing him gripe about apostates every second breath.

"Why did you come up here, Anders?" she asked, fiddling with the will, before tucking it safely away within her tunic. "I mean, I'll take any chance I get to see your pretty-boy face, but isn't it dangerous for you to even leave Darktown."

"It is, but I had something I wanted to bring you."

Raising an eyebrow, she sat up, turning in her seat so she faced Anders, rather than have her back to him. From within his robes he searched, finally pulling forth a small, white flower, holding it before her. Glancing from the flower to Anders, a sly grin curved her lips, taking it gingerly in her hand.

"It's pretty," she mused, smelling its sweet, pleasant aroma. "But if you came here, all the way from Darktown, just to give me a flower, you're either incredibly foolish or incredibly sweet, and I'm one-hundred percent yours."

Anders chuckled, a rosy blush illuminating his thin face, averting his gaze from hers. "I wish I could say it was from me, but it's not, Lilith. The girl you brought in, Nora was her name. She came by not long ago with a flower for you. She wanted to give it to you, but I told her you weren't there and I would take it to you."

Hawke's smile widened, allowing herself to flop back against him, twirling the flower between her thumb and forefinger. "I wonder how she got this. Last I knew, she rarely leaves Darktown, and it's hardly the place to find any sort of flower, much less one as pretty as this."

"I think she said something about growing it herself," Anders commented, running a hand through his hair distractedly as Hawke leaned on him. He cast a glance to the back of her head, thankful she could not see the obvious blush on his face, though no doubt she knew it was there. He gazed at her fondly, allowing himself to lounge comfortably in their shared bench. It had been a while since he had gotten out just to enjoy himself like this, and he'd take it where he could.

"Grew it herself?" she repeated, shifting her head to watch him. "That's impressive, considering where she lives." Reaching around, she tickled the tip of his nose with the petals, chuckling softly as it wrinkled and he rubbed it distractedly. Hawke took the opportunity to lay dramatically across his lap, the back of her hand resting on her forehead, causing Anders to snort in amusement at her antics.

"And now's the part where you carry me away, like a knight on his steed, with your hair blowing romantically in the wind, right?" Hawke sighed, a wicked grin curving her lips. "First, you bring a flower, next you woo the lady~"

Anders sighed, rolling his eyes, though the small smile that curved his lips did not go unnoticed. It was obvious that he would not be moving her anytime soon, and as stubborn as she was, he did not feel like putting forth the effort, only to have her draped across him in some other way later on. Besides, he wasn't necessarily complaining, and though Justice within him kept protesting her proximity to his human vessel, Anders ignored the spirit, as annoying as he might be. Still, she's taken to twirling the flower in circles on his chin, a goofy grin plastered across her features as she watched him swat at her hand, though never fully brushing it away.

"You're sounding like Varric now, you know that don't you?" he asked, only to be replied to with a snort. Hawke knew exactly what she was doing, even if he was not entirely receptive to her advances. After all, they'd only known each other for a few months, and she was perfectly content in being his friend...for now.

"That might have been the idea, but it also might have not. It's up to you to figure that out, as you will." Her arms stretched above her head, careful not to let the flower get damaged by passersby, though as she drew them back, someone knocked heavily into them, causing her to curse as she nearly lost the flower.

"Watch where you're-" She was about to scold whomever had run into her, jostling her from her comfortable position across Anders' lap, only to realize it was her brother who had done it. He turned in surprise, eyes finding his sister draped across the mage, and the moment he realized whose company she held, a dark scowl crossed his features, clearly unimpressed that there were two apostates, rather than one.

"Sister," he growled curtly, arms folding across his chest as he took on a more defensive stance. Hawke, who'd not moved an inch, glanced at Anders, noting the equally displeased expression in his face, in response to Carver's hostility. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation, before sitting up, swinging her legs onto the ground.

"I swear, you two are just as bad as trying to take Anders and Fenris anywhere together. Can't you just get along?"

"No."

They had spoken in unison, both their gazes fixing on Hawke, who shrugged nonchalantly, not willing to put forth any more effort into getting them to be at least decent to one another. She had enough grief when trying to solve Kirkwall's problems, let alone their angry asses, and she rose to her feet, flower in hand, clearly unimpressed with them both.

"What is it, Carver?" she asked shortly, piercing eyes flashing dangerously in her brother's direction.

"Mother's been looking for you," he replied stiffly, eyes still narrowed as he gazed steadily at Anders. "Says you haven't been home all day."

"I'm never home, little brother," she replied, running a hand through her dark hair. She tore her attention away from him, knowing well that he wasn't about to leave until Hawke left with him. Giving Anders an apologetic glance, a sad smile lifted her lips, and gathering that she would be leaving, he rose, towering above both she and her brother.

"I'll see you around, Lilith," he said with a nod, his expression thoroughly disappointed, but as amicable as he could muster, considering her mage-hating brother had interrupted their conversation. Still, perhaps it was good that she did go with him; he was having a difficult enough time keeping his concentration on anything other than how close she placed herself to him.

"Sooner than you think, Anders," she replied with a wicked grin. "Don't miss me too much, now." As if that weren't enough, as she passed by, her hand gave him a swift whack to the rear, causing him to jump in surprise, eyes flashing to her face, her lips curved into a cheeky grin, winking. Carver, a noise of disgust grunting in his throat, grabbed Hawke by the upper arm, dragging her out of the Hanged Man as she blew an obvious kiss to the mage, who merely drew his hood over his head, a deep, red blush enveloping his features. However, as he slunk out of the pub himself, anyone who looked closely would have been able to see the grin that spread goofily across his face.

"Don't tell me you're trying to shag the mage," Carver groaned in disgust, refusing to release her until he was absolutely sure she wasn't going to head straight back to the pub.

"Carver, since when is my love life any of your business?" she asked, though the sly smirk on her face implied otherwise. "Is it because you can't get laid for the life of you?"

"Lilith, I swear to the Maker-"

"You should come to the Blooming Rose with me sometime," she continued, as though she hadn't heard him. "I can hook you up with one of their best, trust me. He's talented-"

"Fuck's sake, Lilith!" Carver exclaimed, releasing her arm as though he had touched something rather unpleasant and smelly. "You can't tell me you've actually-"

"Hey! He said it was on the house, after dealing with that templar business!"

"For the love of-" Carver marched onward, leaving Lilith in the dust, and yet, she stood behind him, giggling stupidly at her brother's fluster. It took a moment for her to catch her breath, but after a moment, she caught up with him, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him to a stop.

"Do you honestly think I'd use the Blooming Rose's services? Carver, please, I'm a lady."

He scowled, shaking his head, before continuing toward their uncle's home, jerking his hand from hers. "I don't know what you do on your own time, Lilith, and I'd honestly rather not know."

"Hey, you were the one who asked about Anders, Carver," she replied simply with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "What's this about, anyway?"

"Mother's been worried about you, doing all this shit to get into Bartrand's expedition. You're barely home, you know. She'd like to see her favorite child once in awhile."

Noting the venom in his voice, Hawke stopped short, grabbing a hold of his arm tightly, keeping him in place. She knew he hated being in her shadow, and while she didn't mean for it to happen, it had regardless. Lilith didn't want her brother hating her for things out of her control, as the eldest, but at the same time, she knew there wasn't a lot she could to to keep him from his resentment.

"Carver, stop. Please." Her voice, normally colored with hints of sarcasm and jest, was serious for once, causing her brother to pause, looking at her in concern.

"What." He was curt, short with her, though his eyes were softer than his voice would suggest.

"Do you really think that? You know I don't ask for it, that I want you in my shadow."

Carver sighed, turning away, a hand brushing roughly through his hair. He didn't seem to want to speak, frustrated, whether at her or himself, she couldn't tell. But he did not speak, and Lilith approached him slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked gently, giving him a small squeeze.

"Heh."

"Carver, I swear to the Maker, I will pull your breeches so far up, it'll be a hood for your head." As she spoke, her hand flashed to his pants, but not before he blocked her, giving her a dangerous smirk.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear sister. I'm not the kid I once was."

"True, but that still doesn't mean I won't do this…"

Confused as he was by her statement, Hawke took her chance to put her brother in a headlock, holding him back before he could retaliate. A surprised yelp fell from his lips as he struggled to break free, and after regaining his composure, he was able to straighten himself, barely, lifting Lilith off her feet as she dangled off his back. A cackle escaped her lips as he began to stomp his way toward Gamlen's home, Lilith in tow, a determined grin spread across his youthful features.

It was dark, and they were alone, and Lilith figured it was the reason Carver was acting like a brother at that moment; they'd had such a nice childhood together, with Bethany, and she knew he took her death a lot harder than she, simply because they twins. But still, it was nice to feel like siblings in the middle of the city, rather than strangers who were constantly at each other's throats.

"Carry me home, Carver. I'm tiiiired."

"Get me out of this damn headlock, and I will, Lilith."

With a sigh, she agreed, and after he rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms above his head, he crouched, offering his sister a piggy-back ride the remainder of the walk home. The flower was still in her hand, undamaged somehow, and Carver noticed it the moment she had her arms around his shoulders. However, he said nothing, instead taking them up a flight of stairs, leading to the entrance of their home.

"I love you too, Lilith," he grunted, positioning himself in a way that would have her opening the door, rather than let her drop so he could reach for the handle. "It's just a tough time, I don't mean to be so angry all the time. I just….am."

"I know, Carver," she replied, unlatching the door, watching it swing open on its hinges. As he made his way through, she ducked her head, and after they were both inside, she slid from his back, locking the door behind them. "I don't blame you, you know. Being related to an apostate can't be easy, especially since I'm not very-"

"Inconspicuous? I know, sister, you do like to grandstand."

"Perish the thought," she quipped, sticking her tongue out at his remark. "I'm the most humble and inconspicuous person you know.

"Bullshit, I know you too well to know that that's crap. At least here."

"True," she shrugged. "I like to give the templars a run for their money, honestly. They've all got sticks up their asses, as it is."

Carver wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. "Don't get yourself killed, I can't do this by myself, you know."

"I know, Carver. And once we've got all we need for Bartrand, we can get mother and our family back in the estate and make an actual life for ourselves."

Muffled yelling from the room to their left had both siblings rolling their eyes; Gamlen, no doubt, had heard them come in, and not at all quietly. Lilith couldn't be assed to care. Only a few more months, she hoped, and they would be off on their expedition to bring glory back to the Amell name.


End file.
